Love Lies Bleeding
by My Sublunary Soul
Summary: A slice of life from the childhood of L Lawliet, Beyond Birthday, and little A. Observe: these Wammy brats will combat, humiliate, and generally annoy the hell out of each other -- all the while suspended somewhere between the extremes of love and hate.
1. The Serenade of Bells

**Note:** This is a dedication to the earliest Wammy's House generation. For those who don't know, A and BB are characters from Another Note, a Death Note prequel novel. You won't need to have read the novel to read this story, though; the only thing you ought to know is that A and BB were the first two successors to L... and that BB is a bit touched in the head. xD But he's adorable! I assure you. :)

This chapter here is the **prologue**, a look into the far future. _Après ceci, l'histoire commencera_ -- after this, the story will begin.

* * *

**"Love Lies Bleeding"****  
**The Serenade of Bells

**--x--**

We are the boxers in the ring;  
We are the bells that never sing.  
There is a title we can't win no matter  
How hard we might swing.

Pictures of you, pictures of me,  
Hung upon your wall for the world to see.  
Pictures of you, pictures of me,  
Remind us all of what we could have been.

- _Pictures of You_, The Last Goodnight

**--x--**

There I lay: dead, and heartbroken.

Perhaps it is my "soul" that remains here. I'm not sure. I exist in the form of some vague consciousness, something invisible. I make no noise as I sweep across the grounds I used to know, following the friends I used to love. Still love. I'm still trekking in the footsteps of L -- still hovering over BB's shoulder. Their paths have diverged so greatly that it's a pain to keep track of them both, but I do. After all, there's not much else I can accomplish, being only this vague consciousness.

It's been years.

BB died some time ago. It was his own ambition that killed him, like I always knew it would. I knew. And I always knew he was insane, because, believe me, I _know_ insane -- but I hold no grudge against him. I've been looking for BB ever since, for I think he may be a drifting soul as well... and wouldn't a reunion be so touching? I've been ringing the bell. I'm waiting for him to come.

Right now, I'm watching L. He's dying. He's dying in the arms of that Kira boy, the one who had also killed BB. I've been watching for a long time, always knowing that this was Kira. But L didn't need me to tell him, because he knew, too. He knew. It was only that he was outmaneuvered, and that could not be helped. Lawliet always had a weakness in dealing with the supernatural -- in dealing with illogical things.

I drift over to Lawliet, and if I had been something corporal, I would have been kneeling by his head. I put my hand (or at least, it _would_ be a hand) over his eyes, and close them slowly. I wonder what he's thinking, and what he's seeing, as he dies. I wonder if his soul is leaving his body, and if so, I hope we find each other.

I ring the bell.

* * *

**From the Author:** There you go: the prologue. And as an added note, despite the title (and overtones of death), the story isn't meant to be flat-out depressing/violent; it's a story of childhood. I chose the title because "love-lies-bleeding" is a type of Amaranthus, a garden plant, and A's real name (that I made up) is Amaranthine. Love-lies-bleeding just refers to her name.

Why A? Well, because the story will end when -- **spoiler!** -- A dies. But you've already deduced that, huh? You clever person, you.

Thanks for reading! Review at your pleasure. :)


	2. Adam vs Eve

**Note:** Thanks to the readers/reviewers for reading and reviewing. :)

Just for reference, the story begins when L is ten and A is six. BB is one year older than A, though he doesn't come in until the next chapter. I don't know the actual age differences -- if there even are any -- but this is what it'll be.

And so, it begins.

* * *

**"Love Lies Bleeding"****  
**Adam vs. Eve

**--x--**

Back off, I'll take you on!  
Headstrong to take on anyone.  
I know that you are wrong.  
Headstrong, we're headstrong.  
Back off, I'll take you on!  
Headstrong to take on anyone.  
I know that you are wrong,  
And this is not where you belong.

- _Headstrong_, Trapt

**--x--**

In the beginning, Quillsh Wammy had an orphanage.

Initially, it was a place where gifted children could be nurtured and cultivated to become something extraordinary. The first, and greatest, success was a boy named L, who had always been innately exceptional. He was a model for the other gifted minds of the institution; everyone seemed to benefit from the outer rays of his brilliance. There were only good intentions when Wammy's House was established.

Like the Garden of Eden.

He was so brilliant, that L. Naturally, the orphanage began to gravitate around him -- the way the solar system revolves around the brilliance of the sun. All of the children were gifted, of course, but none were so greatly endowed as he had been. And, gradually, L's sheer brilliance began to eclipse the relatively dimmer shine of the other gifted children.

In the future, L would become the very purpose of the orphanage.

In actuality, however, there were at least two extraordinary children. Two. There was even a third extraordinary child later, but for now, we examine the two. The two who existed in the beginning, when Wammy's House was established upon good intentions.

Like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.

* * *

**A Warm Welcome**

**--x--**

"You... kidnapped me."

"Yes."

"..."

"Miss A, welcome to Wammy's House."

And that was the end of that. Mr. Wammy stood up promptly from the side of the bed and exited the room, henceforth to be known as _her_ room. There was no further explanation; it was not a difficult concept. Wammy had tranquilized the child, taking her from a large asylum in Massachusetts to a little orphanage in England. She was no longer "Patient Number 625000"; she was now merely "Orphan A."

There would be no turning back. And that was the end of that.

**--x--**

L was, as per usual, loitering around the kitchen. The cooks and other kitchen personnel were quite used to the boy's presence (and constant cravings), so they were going about their business as usual, one or two of them baking a cake for the sweet-toothed child. He was perched somewhat precariously on a high kitchen stool in that gargoyle way of his: knees up to the chest, hands on knees, face leaned forward, and spine curved atrociously. But he was happy this way, and people let it be. At the moment, he was happier than usual, anticipating his upcoming piece of cake.

Until some _insane_ person kicked his stool and sent him sprawling over the kitchen floor.

The kitchen staff were oblivious to the assault; L occasionally fell off of stools by himself, so no one bothered to turn and check. L, of course, was not oblivious, and his first instinct was to push off the floor immediately and hand-stand-kick the attacker. However, as he gazed up at the other person, his mind registered the choppy black hair, three-foot stature, and glaring grey eyes. The edges of his mouth curved upward into a smile and he said, "Hello, A."

She glared at him, wordless.

L hopped up onto his feet and slouched, idly shoving his hands into his jean pockets. "I see you're--"

"Didn't I tell you," she began with impatience, "specifically, that I did _not_ want to leave the asylum?"

"True. You did."

"And yet, here I am."

"That is also true."

She waited for him to explain. She waited.

"WHY?!" the six-year-old exploded.

"Oh. We kidnapped you."

The girl went very quiet. However, she gazed at him with this sort of menacing look -- this look that bespoke of desires to strangle the boy before her.

L did not notice, or perhaps did not care to notice, this menacing look. He said, plainly, "Welcome to Wammy's House, A. Though, because you are new, I must inform you of my philosophy. I have always believed that 'an eye for an eye' is the fairest way to settle things."

She stared at him witheringly and seethed, "L, we are not speaking of _philosophies_. Stop avoiding the--"

She never finished her rant. It was interrupted when L suddenly dropped to the floor and pulled her legs out from under her, causing the girl to fall backwards with arms flailing wildly. Shocked, A simply lay on the floor, a vertigo spiralling around her head. L eventually extended a hand, a peace offering, and she stared at it dizzily. But she did not accept.

And then the brawling began.

**-x-**

In summation, A's first lesson at Wammy's House was: "Do not hit L, for he will surely hit you back."

Similarly, L's first lesson of proper social interaction was: "Do not hit girls, for they will claw you in the face."

* * *

**Feel the Love**

**--x--**

The nurse, an impatient and burly woman with bleach-blonde hair and a scolding voice, bustled around the infirmary in search of bandages. She was barking at the two of them about something. Something about manners, "children these days," violence on TV... well, they didn't really know what she was barking about. They weren't listening.

They were sitting on two adjacent infirmary beds, staring each other down, and waging a silent war.

_Her_ legs kicked rhythmically over the edge of the bed... threatening to kick just a little too close.  
**His** legs were crouched tightly near his body... ready to lunge.

_She_ fingered a lock of hair that had been so viciously pulled before.  
**He** pushed his thumb against his lips, which remained unbearably cake-less.

_She_ glowered with squinted eyes.  
**He** stared with eyes wide open.

The nurse was still babbling, oblivious to all else around her. "--so absolutely rude! I can understand that little boys are naturally quite hostile, but a girl! Young lady, I'll have you know that--"

"English girls are expected to acquire a certain grace," he muttered.  
"_American_ girls are expected to acquire a certain courage," she shot back.

"Americans are obnoxious," he stated.  
"The English are snobs," she retorted.

"The English have good taste. In cake," was his answer.  
"Americans have better taste. In pie," was her rebuttal.

Eventually, the nurse finished her meaningless bustling/scolding and slapped some bandages on their arms. She sent them away, muttering something like, "Begone, you impossible children," and pushed them out the door. And then, oh, L had the audacity to _smile_ at A, as though this whole affair amused him. So A, being A, fumed silently. This was only the beginning.

"L."

"A."

And they parted.

**--x--**

For the record, it was _L_ that sought out _A_ every morning during that first week of her stay. Every morning, after breakfast, A was accosted in the dining hall by L, who insisted that he had some trivial task that he needed "help" with. A was bothered by this -- L's very presence irritated her -- but she never declined.

"A, would you like to help me unscramble these words?"  
(_"I challenge you."_)

"Sure, L, I'll help."  
(_"Bring it."_)

For some reason, he also insisted that she call him "Danuve" everywhere except in their own rooms, where they were absolutely alone. Incidentally, they were now sitting in L's room, lounging on the cool hardwood floor and waging another unspoken war.

In other words, they were playing an intense round of Connect Four. (1)

A was red; L was black. It was her move, and she stared at the board with a magnitude of concentration unfitting for a plastic game. But what of L? Well, she was absolutely _certain_ that he was trying to psyche her out.

Across the vertical wall of the game, L was hunched over in his usual position, examining one of his own black chips. He apparently found it very fascinating, because he gave the thing a great deal of attention. He first rubbed it tentatively between his thumb and forefinger, then switched to the other hand and traced its circular outline with his pinky. After a while, he placed it on the floor and rolled it a couple inches away, before stopping it with his foot and leaving it wedged there between his toes. He rubbed it between the phalanges of his foot for good measure.

It was appalling.

But no, A could take it. She had witnessed things far more appalling than this "L" -- things that had strained her nerves with far more agony than that chip wedged _disgustingly_ between his toes... so she would not give in. She would not be psyched out. With resolute determination, A carefully slid a red chip above one of the black pieces on the board.

Your move.

L examined the board for a few moments. Then, to A's horror, he used that dirty chip from his foot and slid it in the spot beside A's chip. Beside it. _Contaminating_ it. Perhaps the feeling of utter perturbation showed on her face, because L suddenly asked, "What's wrong, A?"

(_"Giving up already?"_)

She pursed her lips and steeled herself against this unspoken taunt. No. She would not give in. This was just another one of his ploys. "...Nothing, L. I just... felt nauseous for a second... But I'm fine, really."

(_"Nice try, jerk."_)

**-x-**

By nightfall, the two children had burned through six rounds of Connect Four, three rounds of solitaire, eight games of "Guess Who?", twelve rounds of Jenga, and thirty-four games of Tic-Tac-Toe Extreme (which was actually just normal tic-tac-toe, except that it was played on the computer, where they wouldn't waste piles of paper).

The score was as follows:  
A - 29 wins  
L - 34 wins

Clearly, today was supposed to be "game" day. L won, as usual. Yesterday had been "puzzles and word searches" day, the one before that had been "scavenger hunt" day, and the one before that... well, you get the picture. Themes. L never announced the theme of the day beforehand, but it was always quite obvious as soon as the challenge had begun.

That was rule number two of Wammy's House: "Never state the obvious. Only stupid people do that, and stupidity is the ultimate weakness."

**--x--**

They were still on L's laptop, continuing their repetitive games of Tic Tac Toe Extreme. The room was dark in accordance with the time of day, 9:00 p.m., and the only source of light was the glare from the bright laptop screen. It was L's turn (he was X, she was O) when the laptop suddenly blacked out.

A was, for some inexplicable reason, terrified by this. She half-expected white letters to flash on the screen, and loudspeakers to declare...

The screen quickly recovered. When it did, there was only a stark white background with a single, gothic "W" floating in the center. A's momentary panic attack subsided, and she thought... No. She didn't want to think about it.

Meanwhile, L had grabbed a nearby computer microphone and began speaking into it. "Yes, Watari?"

"L, there is a new case in Nova Scotia about the disappearance of a fisherman's family. Will you review the case?"

"What is so unique about this?"

"Sources say that the fisherman had been a prominent member of a mysterious cult. It has been speculated that this cult is also responsible for other disappearances of members along the Atlantic coast in the U.S., Ireland, Portugal, and Morocco."

"Hm. I will look into it."

There was a little "click" noise as the connection closed and the laptop reverted back to the Tic Tac Toe game. There was also a little box in the corner which announced that "1 new file has been received." L turned to A and said, "We will have to resume our game at another time."

But the game was already forgotten, for A was now pondering the recent talk of cases and disappearances. "What did he mean by 'review the case?'" she murmured. Realization dawned slowly. Her eyes peered upward at L and she asked, for the first time, "L, who _are_ you?"

L smiled.

"I am a detective. This is all I can tell you now. When you are older, you will understand."

Suddenly, she felt as though she were looking at him for the first time.

He had said "when you are older" as though he were so much older than she -- and yes, in terms of children's years, he was. He must have been about ten or eleven, at least four years her senior. But in the back of A's mind, she knew that four years was actually a very short time. What really divided them was their achievements and life experience. Before her stood an accomplished, ten-year-old Detective L, whereas she was merely Orphan A. For the first time, she realized that they were truly not equals.

"Oh," was all she said.

**-x-**

"Is the evaluation concluded, L?" the electronic voice asked.

"The data collected so far is sufficient. I will analyze everything and have the results ready by tomorrow."

"And what of the fisherman's family?"

"I am looking into it."

L had allowed her to stay in his room. She had nowhere else to go, really, so all she did was sit and watch him read over the files. He forbade her from looking at the files herself (confidential information, he called it), so she simply lay on the floor in a daze. It was about 10:30 p.m., so the computer clock said, and she felt her eyelids flutter indecisively between sleep and wakefulness.

At some point, she was vaguely aware that someone had picked her up and plunked her down somewhere. It was somewhere soft, likely a bed, with a cover pulled haphazardly over her body and her head resting slanted on the pillow.

* * *

**Upon Awakening**

**--x--**

A was not aware that she had been sleeping until she woke.

While unconscious, her arm had reached out and brushed the top of the nightstand, where the tinkle of a bell woke her. Blinking into consciousness, she saw that there was a dreamcatcher -- _her _dreamcatcher, made by her father from the insane asylum -- lying on the nightstand. It had a little bell below the many tassles of feathers, serving as her alarm this morning. Someone must have placed it there while she was asleep.

Eyes gazing lazily around, she saw that she was still in L's room, but L was nowhere to be found. As she sat up in the bed, a crinkling noise alerted her to a piece of paper placed conspicuously on top of the covers.

Grasping the paper and rubbing her bleary eyes, she read the scrawling print of the note.

-

Miss A,

You will find a folder in your room which contains the results of your evaluation. I congratulate you, for you have proved yourself a viable candidate. I believe that you have the most potential of any of the children in this orphanage. Your IQ test has revealed a score of 173, which is truly outstanding. I have high expectations of you.

Your alias is Alternate. "A," as we have called you thus far, is for short. Your alias is also indicative of your ranking in the House. You must keep your true identity confidential.

L

-

Her first thought was, "When have I ever taken an IQ test?"

She tried to think back over the course of the week, between all of the games and scavenger hunts and other nonsense, when it suddenly struck her. _All_ of it was part of a test. L had probably slipped her the IQ thing on either the "puzzle" day or the "random challenges" day without telling her. This entire week of pretend challenges was simply a guise for some kind of evaluation.

What were they evaluating her for?

Who _was_ L?

A sat there with the paper in her hands, mulling over questions she had no answers for. Later, when she tried to seek out Mr. Wammy or L, she discovered that they were nowhere to be found. When asking a passerby in the hallway, some older child who seemed familiar with the orphanage, the boy eyed her strangely.

"L? You mean _the_ L? He doesn't live here anymore. I don't even know what he looks like."

**-x-**

The third, possibly most important lesson that Wammy's House had to offer was: "People are not as they seem. Always suspect an ulterior motive."

* * *

(1) Connect Four: a common children's game (one of my personal favorites as a kid). It's basically a game with a "board" that stands up vertically and has holes in it for pieces to slide into. It's like tic-tac-toe, except that it's red pieces versus black pieces, rather than X's and O's, and you need to get four of your own chips in a row to win.

* * *

**From the Author: **There. The first real chapter. Sorry the narration is a bit cold; the perspectives in later chapters will switch between A and B -- but whenever L is around, it suddenly goes third-person. To set the mood. :)

**-x-**

Okay, so I have this theory. You see, I've never been a fan of romantic/passionate/gushy love, and really, I don't think it suits the Wammy kids. In my eyes, there are many different types of "love"...

**L**, the quirky and unconventional genius, is the "adversary love" type. The object of affection is a rival to the bitter end -- for you see, the rivalry itself is an acknowledgement of the other person and a reason to draw closer. (-cough- **Light** -cough-) He dislikes outsiders who interrupt the rivalry. (Matsuda??)

**A**, the moody but headstrong girl, is the "fierce love" type. There's little indication of actual feelings, but the object of affection is always kept close, and she will defend him with an absolute, unconditional loyalty. She dislikes those who antagonize her.

**BB**, the crazy-adorable maniac, is the "obsessive love" type. He is lovable in general, but suffocating in particular. When he discovers his object of affection, he pursues him/her with total abandon. He dislikes subtlety.

Look at them. They're just... not compatible. But isn't this what makes things interesting? xD Reviews are most gratefully accepted. :)


	3. The Extraordinary

**Note:** Thanks again to all my readers/reviewers! :D

If you've ever read my other story, Gimme Mah Chocolate Foo' (chapter 3), the meeting of A and B will sound familiar. It is, in fact, the exact same series of events. But now, we see it through the perspective of pensive little A.

And BB's comin' to bring the love.

* * *

**"Love Lies Bleeding"****  
**The Extraordinary

**--x--**

Just a day,  
Just an ordinary day.  
Just trying to get by.

Just a boy,  
Just an ordinary boy.  
But he was looking to the sky.

- _Ordinary Day_, Vanessa Carlton

**--x--**

Do you feel it?

It's... so...

Cold.

**-x-**

A year had passed since L's departure, and in that time, I discovered that he really did not live here. But he had certainly lived here once, for he was an honored alumni with an enormous legacy -- L, the greatest detective in the world. This "legacy" was the most basic and fundamental piece of knowledge in the entire orphanage. Every child in the institution knew his name and fame.

But not his face.

The boy himself was a total mystery. Even the older children, who had lived here when L lived here, did not know his identity. This baffled me. For one thing, there are only about ten other children in the orphanage, and it is difficult to imagine how a single one could possibly slip in and out invisibly.

Let alone _L_, who does not exactly embody the norm of society. (He sticks out. A lot.)

Though, over the course of the year, I began to understand. Simply put, everyone here was extremely aloof. Always, the other orphans were concentrating on some little detail about themselves that needed either tuning up or toning down. Always, the mantra was, "I wish I could be as smart as L," or , "I wish I could be as good as L." They were all immensely focused and driven -- always striving to impress. They were all striving to be number one.

This, I did not understand. Ranking meant nothing to me. Yet, perhaps it was because I was already number one, and I'd expended no flaring passion or painstaking toil to achieve it. I couldn't understand how the other children were so willing to sacrifice every other aspect of life for their own success. I couldn't understand how they managed to see only their own imperfections, obsessively scrubbing away at them, until they failed to notice everything else.

Everyone here was extremely aloof; either that, or they were all clinically blind. I joke, of course, but -- who knows? They may as well have been. I didn't know them very well. No one really knew anyone else.

It's cold, here, at Wammy's House.

Do you feel it?

* * *

**An Ordinary Day**

**--x--**

Another cycle of the seasons, and it was summer again.

I was standing outside on the porch, beneath the overhanging roof, where I would not be assaulted by the heavy rain. Today was one of those disgusting days -- too hot to stay awake, too humid to fall asleep. I was just bored, really, and wanted to take a look at the time. Outside, there is an attachment of the building that serves as both a bell tower and a clock tower. I stood in the far corner of the porch, near one of the roof's wooden support pillars, and tried to peer out at the clock through the opaque darkness of the weather.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shattered overhead.

It was so sudden, and so obnoxiously _loud_, that I flinched and bumped against the wooden pillar. In that brief moment, when the lightning illuminated the world, I happened to look up at the pillar and see horizontal lines drawn onto the wood -- all marked "L," with numbers beside them.

When the light faded, I examined the wood more closely, realizing that the lines were merely markings of height and the numbers were ages. This was probably a pillar that L had used to measure his growth every year. Just an ordinary thing.

But I was appalled at the height difference. Feeling that old stir of competition, I pressed my back indignantly against the pillar and marked my height with a finger, pinching the damp wood to leave a nail mark. I stood back to see how I compared.

And then, looking at those ordinary lines, I had an epiphany.

**-x-**

The door opened.

I was pulled away from my inner musings when I heard the front door open behind me. I looked back and saw Mr. Wammy -- when did he get here? -- and a young boy with him. Mr. Wammy didn't see me, I don't think, but the boy happened to be staring directly at me. Our eyes locked for a moment, before the door closed between us.

Now, I didn't get a good look at him, but... I thought he was kinda...

**--x--**

"A."

Startled, A turned.

"L!" she exclaimed.

The boy came around from the back of the building, walking with a hunched gait toward the girl on the porch. L smiled. He patted her on the head, and she swatted his hand irritably.

"How have you been doing in your classes?"

"Fine," she mumbled.

"You are still ranked first, yes?"

She paused, then answered slowly, "...Yes. Still first."

L nodded, as though to say, "As expected of you." He was about to leave the porch, but A stopped him.

"Still first to _succeed_."

L stopped walking.

"Who told you?"

A gave no immediate answer. Instead, she padded over to L and took him by the shirtsleeve, leading him to the corner of the porch. "Look," she prompted, and he looked. Before them stood a pillar which Watari had used over the past few years to chart L's growth. He stared quizzically at A, who was gazing at the pillar with a faraway look.

"No one told me. I saw it for myself," she said quietly. "I saw that, one day, I would have to measure up to you."

L failed to see the connection here.

"You are being vague," he stated bluntly. "Watari and I have only recently discussed the topic of raising a successor. We have not informed anyone else of this. How could you have known?"

But A seemed not to have heard him. She went to the pillar and reached up, trying to touch the highest mark -- it was just beyond fingertip length. If she had strained a bit more, she could have brushed it, but she simply let her arm fall back in place.

"Don't you see, L? I can't reach you."

Her expression was oddly meaningful, so unlike the childish competitor with whom he'd bonded over a game of Connect Four, just one short year ago.

"You can't do this. You can't impose your life on me. Otherwise... it may be that your life will snuff out mine."

* * *

**Fraternizing**

**--x--**

L didn't say much after my little revelation. He was quiet for a bit, and then, suddenly, he took me by the shoulders and shoved me inside the building. I thought he was going to start another fight -- and I would have been ready, I _assure_ you -- but he just said, "You will catch a cold out here," and walked away.

I assume that translates into: "Begone. I no longer wish to see your face."

**-x-**

I was now sitting on the stairs in the front lobby, mulling over my thoughts. Somehow, that sudden realization had made perfect sense, and I did not question it. L even confirmed it with his words. Rather, I wondered how I came about knowing it.

Leaning against the banister, my eyes wandered between the bars and looked down at the foyer below, where I saw the doors to the main office open. Sitting up again, I watched as Mr. Wammy and that other boy exited. Wammy tilted his hat and slipped away, leaving the boy to stand alone in the dark. It must have gotten even darker since I had gone outside to look at the clock, so I couldn't see the boy very well. He seemed to have black hair and a tannish complexion.

"Hey," I called softly.

The boy's head shot around wildly in all directions -- which was rather amusing -- before his gaze met mine. He stared at me, then meekly shuffled closer to the base of the stairway. "I'm A, by the way," I said. "That's how they name us. With just a letter."

He didn't respond. He just kept _looking_ at me. We listened to the footfalls of rain echo against our silence.

"Did... they name you?"

"B," he said simply. His tone was light and innocent, with a slight British lilt.

"B," I repeated. Then, as an afterthought, I asked carefully, "And what does B stand for?"

"Backup."

"I see..."

So he was branded with this "successor" stigma as well.

"That means you're among the more brilliant kids here. You see, they name you by your IQ, starting with me, A, and going down the alphabet. They say that I'm ranked number one."

This seemed to pique his interest. To my surprise, all shyness was lost as he scrambled up the stairs and knelt down a few steps below me, asking excitedly, "Ranked? For what?"

He reminded me vaguely of an energetic puppy.

"Ranked by your intelligence--" Here I paused a bit. "--and for your aptitude to become L. We... all... want to become L." I seethed inwardly at my own remark.

"L? What's L?" the puppy yipped.

"What is L, indeed," I muttered. He tilted his head at me and blinked.

"You are 'Backup,' B. That is, you are L's backup. In case L should die, you may become L," I explained dryly.

"I'll _become_ L?" he repeated, puzzled. "Is L a person or a thing?"

My thoughts exactly.

"I think the better question is: are _we_ people or things?"

He tilted his head the other way, staring up at me with wonder. "What do you mean?"

"Well. When someone takes your name, B, they take your identity. By naming you, they claim you as theirs to name. Are we objects that we can be so taken and rearranged? Who -- or what -- is L to do such a thing? ...What is L, indeed." I stared down at my lap angrily. I didn't mean to confuse this boy with all my rambling, but I couldn't hold it in -- this indignation. I expected B to simply leave, being put-off by my nonsensical rambling.

Instead, he stayed and spoke again, as though trying to soothe me. "It's not like they _take_ your name, though. You still have your real..."

"No, I don't," I interrupted coldly. "Real names aren't allowed here. I'm just A now. I'm Alternate L."

A mischievous grin spread across B's face.

"But I can see it. Your real one."

I blinked at him.

"You can see my name?" I asked, not comprehending.

What did he mean? Was that some kind of obscure metaphor or something...?

"It's right there!"

He suddenly lurched forward, and I fell back against the stairs in surprise. He was right up in my face, gesturing at an area above my head. "Over the numbers. I can see everyone's names and numbers!"

Now that he was invading my personal space (which chagrined me greatly, by the way), I could see that his hair was not black, but rather a rich brown. His skin _was_ tannish -- compared to the average British person, at least. He looked perfectly ordinary, except... except that his eyes were an impossibly vibrant _red_. I peered into them for a moment -- those bright, happy eyes -- and I thought that he looked so innocent. Like someone who wouldn't know the difference between right and wrong.

Like someone who was insane.

Eventually, I realized that I had been staring for too long. To humor him, I said, " So, you can see... names and numbers?"

"That's right."

"Really..."

"Really."

"Then..." I moved to sit up, nudging him to back off. "What's my real name?"

He didn't miss a heartbeat. "Amaranthine de Lafayette Wammy." And he grinned. "Sounds awkward. Hey, are you related to that old guy?"

I breathed, incredulous, but made no other reaction. He was absolutely right; it was wild. How did he know? And I wondered if, maybe, he and I were somehow alike. If maybe... we knew things in a way that couldn't be explained. And I smiled. "That _is_ my name, isn't it...? I..."

(_de Lafayette_)

Just those words, a distant echo in the back of my mind, and I was bombarded by memories of the insane asylum. I immediately lost my train of thought.

Fumbling, I stood up and said, briskly, "B, you shouldn't go around telling people that you can see their names. They will be upset. And please don't mention my name again, because like I said, real names aren't allowed." I started to ascend the stairs. My heart was beating quickly, and I tried to will it to stop, but that name... well, I just wanted to leave that behind.

"Hey, that's no fun!" B said, getting up with me. "Don't you want my name now, too?"

"...real names aren't allowed, B."

"Wanna know how I can see your name?"

"No, B. Don't mention it again."

"Weren't you just saying how much you _don't_ like having them rename us?"

I sighed, exasperated, and turned around. "I don't like it, but it's not a matter of like or dislike. The moment we walked through that door, we became the property of L and this orphanage. We are _obligated_ to succeed as L's heirs." I stopped myself there, realizing my own words. They were true, but... but I just wished they weren't. I shook my head and hurried up the steps.

"Ooh, wait! I'll come too!"

* * *

**An Extraordinary Person**

**--x--**

"Pleeeeaaasssee?"

"Go. Away."

"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaasssssseee?"

"B, _go away_."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaa..."

I growled irritably and sank to the floor, leaning against the door. B was still sitting outside, appealing for entrance. I was annoyed, of course, and somehow fascinated. How could any normal person have _so much_ lung capacity as to beg for two hours straight? _I_ was tired, and I hadn't done anything for the last hour and fifty-five minutes.

**--x--**

I opened the door.

B was lying dramatically on the hallway carpet, limbs sprawled, looking for all the world like a man dying of oxygen deprivation.

"I hate you. I hope you know that," I stated crossly.

B's head lolled to the side and looked up at me, staring with those big, bright eyes. He gave me this sort of... pout-face.

"...But you can come in."

He sat up in an instant and crawled happily through the doorway. He didn't say a thing, aside from some delighted squeals, but I could see the words in his eyes.

(_"Oh-ho-ho. Victory is mine."_)

"Only for a second," I snarled quickly. But my words went unheeded. He barreled into the room and immediately flopped down on the lower half of my bunk bed, which I did not use. Then, a moment later, he popped out of the bunk bed area and began dashing around the room, looking at, and _touching_, everything.

"Hey! Don't touch my stuf-- _especially_ not the dreamcatcher!! _**B**_!"

I noticed, offhandedly, that the room felt just a little warmer.

* * *

**From the Author:** Allow me to explain. Since L is an awesome man of logic and BB has shinigami eyes, I needed to tweak A somehow to balance out the group. What could this mean, you ask? Well, at first I considered giving her some kind of quirk. But, personally, I felt that a quirk would intrude upon L's glory. (-_cough_- Near and Mello -_cough_-) So, instead, I thought to myself -- wouldn't it be fun if A had ESP??

Now they're all special. :D

(Or maybe I should give L an extra leg, too?! ...Don't hit me, please.)


	4. B Careful

**Note:** Once more, I thank all the considerate people who've read/reviewed. My only regret is that I am _such_ a slow updater... and for that, I apologize.

Oh, and I forgot to mention: I don't imagine that BB looks exactly like L. It was mentioned somewhere in Another Note that he just puts on make-up and such to appear like him. Of course, B hasn't even met the guy yet (or gone completely nutty; I believe insanity is a process), so he looks just like any ordinary kid.

...With satanic red eyes.

* * *

**"Love Lies Bleeding"****  
**B Careful

**--x--**

Hahahahahahahahahaa...  
Feel good...  
Feel good...

You've got a new horizon;  
It's ephemeral style.  
A melancholy town where we never smile.

Windmill, windmill for the land.  
Turn forever, hand in hand.  
Take it all in on your stride.  
It is sinking, falling down.  
Love forever; love is free.  
Let's turn forever, you and me.

- _Feel Good Inc._, Gorillaz

**--x--**

Surprisingly, she did actually let me in. With all of my dramatics and noisemaking, I figured she would just leave me out there in the hall to die. Well, I mean, I did get slapped upside the head upon entrance, but... I'm sure it was a heartfelt smack. After all, she seemed like a lonely person.

"I want you to call me Beyond."

Her hand paused near the Jenga (1) tower and she looked up at me.

"Look, B. I told you. Real names--"

"--aren't allowed, I know. But when we're alone and no one's listening. _Then_ I want you to call me Beyond."

She sighed and turned back to the game, removing a wooden block with slow precision.

"Just not Backup. Backup sounds awful, doesn't it? Alternate is bad too. Can I call you Amy?" I rambled, plucking a block haphazardly and causing the tower to wobble.

"You will call me _A_. If you want, I can call you BB. That sounds somewhat endearing, I think."

"Hmm," I agreed passively.

She carefully removed another block from the tower.

"Are you related to Mr. Wammy?"

"Hm? Why would you think that? Wammy is a common name."

"...No it's not."

"Yes, it is." I saw the corners of her mouth twitch. "In Zimbabwe." I snorted and chuckled, and she smiled silently. So, yes, they were related. My first guess would be a grandfather-granddaughter blood relation. Though, I suppose it would be too nosy to pry further and confirm it.

"He's head of the House, right? Mr. Wammy?" (2)

"Yes, though he's rarely ever here."

"Oh. Do you miss him a lot?"

"I don't miss him at all," she answered curtly. I noted the bitter clip in her tone and decided again not to pry.

The Jenga tower was slowly eroding, and our equal mounds of blocks slowly rising. It was her turn, in which she gently pushed a block out into her pile. Watching this, I noticed something for the first time. She only played with her right hand.

I reached around the tower and lifted her left arm. She barked a "What do you think you're doing?" at me, but I ignored her and focused on the gold bell that dangled from a simple, braided string around her wrist.

"What's this?" I asked, touching the bell lightly. It was tiny -- like a very small Christmas ornament -- and made a little tinkling noise when it shook.

She sighed and flicked my hand away. Standing up, she moved to the bunk bed and pointed to a dreamcatcher that hung from the corner of the top bunk's wooden rail. "The bell was attached to that," A explained. "I wear it as a good luck charm."

"You believe in luck?"

"I believe in faith."

She sat down again without further explanation and we resumed the game. It was my turn, and as I pulled a block lazily from the bottom of the tower, the whole thing suddenly collapsed.

"Loser rebuilds," she stated.

**--x--**

That night, I huddled into the covers of the bottom bunk in A's room. I had (lied) told her that I didn't know where my own room was, and she (grudgingly) graciously allowed me to share a portion of her own.

Blinking, I stared at the wall beside me and watched as my vision shifted slowly to a hazy red. This was what I called my night-vision; it only activates in the dark. (Like a superhero!) It's very pretty, though. It makes you feel like you're looking at the world through a translucent, red jewel.

I heard the mattress above me shift slightly. "Still awake, A?" I murmured.

"...Still awake," she replied quietly.

"You wanna hear a story?"

"What I want is for _you_ to shut up..."

Petulant as always.

"Okay, so," I began anyway, "once upon a time, there was a man who owned a farm."

"You're just going to--"

"And this man, he lived on that farm his whole life. He did, his father did, and his grandfather before him did."

"--ignore me, aren't you?"

"This man, he had a wife and a son, and they lived happily on this farm. It was peaceful. There was an endless expanse of blue sky, hanging low over their golden fields of wheat and barley. Every day was sunny and tranquil. The gentlest of winds would sweep across this property, sending its blessings from faraway places, and turn the windmill that stood in the corner of the field, just turning and turning away."

A was quiet.

"Once, the farmer and the farmer's son were standing by this windmill, and the father said, 'Son, this windmill is the symbol of our family and the love within us. Today, it's my job to keep this windmill going. Someday, it will be yours.' And the son understood. But as he looked up above his father's head, the windmill halted.

"When the farmer realized that the windmill had stopped, he climbed up a ladder to fix it. Then he fell and smashed his head. The farmer's wife, shocked, fell into a coma and never came out. So the son fled that farm, but not without looking back every now and then to wonder why he _knew_ the windmill would halt."

There was silence.

"...I'm sorry, BB."

* * *

**Disillusionment**

**--(A)--**

I woke up.

No, it was neither a sound nor a feeling. Rather, it was the lack thereof. The silence woke me.

My first instinct was to check the bottom bunk, and climbing down the wooden ladder, I was not surprised to find it empty. Somehow, the unnatural quiet of the room was evidence enough that BB was no longer here. My second instinct was to worry.

**-x-**

I wandered down the dorm hallway, keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of B. He wasn't in the bathroom. There were only three upstairs, which were all vacant, and there was no point in going downstairs to use one. I yawned and wondered vaguely as to where that troublesome boy could have gone. The only other place worth going to in the middle of the night would be the kitchen, where I was now headed. Descending the steps of the main stairway, my half-asleep mind flitted around in a pool of random, meaningless thoughts.

And then I wondered... what if BB was a sleepwalker? What a pain.

Such were my meaningless thoughts. Thus was I blissfully distracted when, about four stairs from the ground floor, I inhaled the scent of smoke. Or, rather, when I choked on this smoke, hacking myself into a fit.

The sudden constriction of my breathing jogged my mind, and I was startled out of my daze. I knew what this meant. Recalling the fire drills we used to do in the insane asylum, I dropped to the floor, covering my nose and mouth with an arm. I hadn't noticed it before -- it was already dark in the area -- but black billows of smoke were floating aimlessly in the lobby, gathering from some unknown source and spreading its deadly toxins. At this rate, I couldn't turn back and climb the stairs again; the smoke would overtake me.

Crawling along the tiled floor, I tried to find the front door in hopes of venting out the lobby. So I found a door, yes, but it was hot to the touch, and I feared that I had mistakenly discovered the barrier between myself and the fire. Looking up, I saw that it was Mr. Wammy's office, the door slightly ajar...

I looked down at my left wrist.

...and my own bracelet dangling from the door knob. The bell tinkled mutedly as a deluge of smoke rushed past it.

* * *

**Motivation**

**--(B: **_one hour later_**)--**

I strolled along through the woods, keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of a highway. I had money -- I'd saved up over the past couple years, and though it wasn't much, I only needed the change for a bus ride. Or, if I was lucky, I'd be able to score a free hitch hike. In any case, I needed to find my way to the closest road and the nearest town, and then I could make plans from there. But there was no hurry, really.

Pushing through the endless stretch of trees and shrubs (as well as the occasional spider web), I relied on my night-vision to guide me around obstacles. At some point, I was aware of a loud rustling overhead, most likely a troupe of birds fleeing from some danger. If I strained my senses, I could hear the very, very distant clashing noise of the orphanage's bell tower. Perhaps this was an emergency signal. Of course, I was not surprised. I simply forged ahead.

I would have, at least, had I not been tackled from behind at that very moment. Oh, but I was not surprised.

"A," I breathed. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Is... _that_... all you have to say?" she ground out, tone kept painstakingly low.

I grinned sheepishly, despite my face being shoved in the dirt.

"So," A began again, "you were trying to frame me, is that it?" She thrust her fist in front of my face and shook it, making the bracelet on her wrist jingle with inappropriate merriness. "Start a fire -- a distraction -- while you slip away unnoticed during the commotion. And in the end, the evidence would point to me, and you would have the time to escape. You're a psychopath, you know that?"

I sighed, disappointed. "Well, you got most of it. Please don't misunderstand."

I twisted wildly and flipped over, possibly crushing my companion.

"I wasn't trying to frame you," I said calmly. A writhed furiously under my weight. "After all, I set the alarm clock. I made sure you'd wake up."

She stopped struggling, and I sat up tentatively, giving her space to breathe. "What alarm clock?" she asked warily.

"Ah, well, maybe you woke up before the alarm?" I said, avoiding her gaze. I didn't dare look her in the eyes. That's what they tell you in scout camp and country lore -- never look a beast in the eyes. It signifies a challenge. "I set the alarm clock so you'd wake up, and I hung your bracelet on the door so you'd know it was me. Of course, I'm sure you would have known anyway..."

She backhanded me in the back of the head.

"What's wrong with you?!" she shouted. "The whole orphanage could be burning down! Everyone would be _dead_ because of you!" For such a little thing, A could be rather intimidating.

"Nuh-uh..." I whined, rubbing my head. Perhaps I would have slapped her back -- her violence was unwarranted, I'll have you know -- but I knew better than to pick a fight with a rabid animal. "I checked everyone before I left. No one's going to die tonight."

"WHAT?!" she exploded.

I was sure I was going to get another beating, so I quickly explained, "Remember? Remember when I told you about the numbers?"

She lowered her hand a bit.

"The numbers that I see are _lifespans_."

She grew suddenly quiet, perhaps contemplating my words.

"...Don't be mad, A," I murmured, placing a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. "All I wanted was to go home."

"And this was your plan the entire time?" she growled, still staring pointedly at the ground. Well, we both knew the answer to that. There was no need to respond to the question; rather, I responded to the underlying plea.

"You can come, too, if you're lonely."

A remained expressionless and silent.

"Because, you know, the numbers never ended for my mother," I explained softly. "You understand, don't you? The windmill never stopped turning for the farmer's wife."

She surprised me.

"I'm not going anywhere with the likes of you," A stated coldly. "Despite your reasoning and your intentions, you put our lives in danger. You set a building on _fire_, B. What you did was wrong."

But... no one died. It was a harmless diversion.

"Why?"

"You really _don't_ know... do you?"

**--x--**

We ended up going back to the orphanage.

After a thick silence, A had simply turned and left. With this rejection, my resolve to run away began to die, and so I followed her reluctantly. I brooded the whole way, though -- whining about trivial things, like how much I missed the jam we used to make on our farm.

After the woods began to thin, Wammy's House could be seen in the distance. The venerable, slightly Gothic building stood as proudly as it ever did, only slightly charred on one small portion of the western wall. Nevertheless, it was fine -- as expected. There seemed to be a small crowd of adults and children rounded up in the yard, standing impatiently in their night clothes near a couple of police cars and a fire truck. A stopped walking and I stopped walking.

They may have been worrying about us, since we were absent during this crisis. Or, they may have already accused us both of starting the fire. Either way, we knew that approaching the group would be an awkward task, and we both pondered how best to go about this.

A decided, as usual.

"I'll race you."

I stared at her in wonder. I was under the impression that she had been giving me the silent treatment.

"...'kay. Fine."

"Loser establishes our alibi," she stated.

* * *

(1) Jenga: another kids' game. Basically, you build a tower with these wooden rectangular blocks, and then the players take turns removing one block at a time from the tower, but without making it fall.

(2) Roger does not exist yet! :O He'll come along later; I promise. (For all you Roger-lovers out there...)

* * *

**From the Author:** Yes, I know, it's an awful pun (referring to chapter title), but I happen to like this awful pun. And speaking of B: do not be deceived by his cuteness!

As A mentioned in the last chapter, B does not know the _difference between right and wrong_. Of course he would know that things like lying and stealing are "bad" -- that's basic kindergarten ethic -- but I think it's more complicated than that. He seems to have an "inevitable" mindset. You see, in Another Note, B only killed people whose life spans would have run out on that day anyway. So, in his way of thinking, he was not really doing anything _wrong_ by killing them, because they were bound to die. Likewise, BB doesn't find it wrong to set the building afire, because everyone was bound to survive.

Then again... _is_ this really "wrong"? Would you side with A or B here?


	5. Preliminaries

**Note:** ZOMG INTERNET WITHDRAWAL.

Why the _**ultra**_ late update? Simple. My internet had a meltdown that lasted two weeks. Today, the late-as-hell technician finally came in, poked at a few things for twenty minutes, and then fixed the piece of crap that is my modem. So, at last, I'm back. :D ...Late as hell.

"**Because we're not satisfied until you're not satisfied**." - _Customer Disservice_, Demotivators®

--

Anyway! On that poll from the last chapter, the results were as follows: **A** - 4; **B** - 2.

Basically, I tried to wire the scenario so that _Option A_ was more the "L" way of thinking: solid judgement. Conversely, _Option B_ was more the "Light" way of thinking: flexible idealism. See? Now you know what kind of person you are -- a young, senile detective /_or_/ a touched-in-the-head, cute-in-the-face psychopath. :)

Not done stalling yet.

You see, now that we've established some basic relationships between L, A, and B, we can move on to actual story arcs. (Took long enough, huh?? :D) This chapter is a transition into our first arc. However, at the end of the chapter, I'd like to ask for some of the readers' suggestions.

* * *

**"Love Lies Bleeding"****  
**Preliminaries

**--x--**

I'll be everything that I wanna be.  
I am confidence in insecurity.  
I am a voice yet waiting to be heard.  
I'll shoot the shot -- bang! -- that you hear round the world.

And I'm a one girl revolution.

- _One Girl Revolution_, Superchick

**--x--**

We ran like the wind.

Down the sloping, grassy hillside and away from the woods, we ran. With my field of vision drawing ever closer to the orphanage, I could see that what BB had said was true. There they were, adult and child alike, standing near the gates and away from the building. All of the residents were present, very much alive. The orphanage itself was the same as it ever was, only burnt on the western side.

But that doesn't mean there's no damage.

Even at this distance, I could see how the children huddled together in a fearful mass, watching as billows of smoke purged from the building. Their home. Personally, I hated that orphanage and all its obscure injustices, but... I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Of course they'd be afraid. Of course they would stand and stare in fear of the fire that could have easily consumed them -- could have easily consumed their lives, and all the evidence of their existence. The orphanage was where they kept all their worldly possessions, all their achievements, and all the proof of their quests to become something extraordinary. They're orphans. Of course they'd be afraid of losing their whole world all over again.

At the same time, I can't blame BB.

Perhaps it was the way he'd said, so easily, "All I wanted was to go home." I know that feeling. And I realized, then, that he truly had no malicious intention, and that he'd even secured measures to protect me: the alarm. His innocence shames me.

I do not condone his actions.

But, secretly, I hope he carries that innocence forever.

**--(B)--**

"Loser establishes our alibi," she stated. And off she went -- running like the wind.

I caught up quickly and easily. I think A may have been the stronger of us two, but I was certainly the faster. We went head to head for a while, neither of us really first or second. For a moment, we were merely two little kids, Beyond and Amy, running just for the sake of running, like children often do.

But I wanted so much more to win. I sped up a bit, inching forward ahead of her, laughing and panting. However, as I passed her by, she whispered, "B, just follow my lead."

...What? Did she want me to fall behind and follow her? Oh, but I most certainly was not going to follow her. I wasn't going to let her win. I relayed this in words by saying, "Heehee! Actually, I think it's _you_ that needs to follow _my_ lead."

No answer.

Curious, I peered over my shoulder. Immediately, I noticed that A had stopped running, standing far behind me. I began to slow down as well, when all of a sudden, A let rip a bloody-murder scream and came charging at me, plowing me over into a frantic, flailing heap. She began yelling incoherent things at me while simultaneously punching my shoulder and pulling my hair. Not hard. Just enough to make me think she'd gone mad.

At some point, I was aware that A was no longer sitting on top of me, but was being lifted into the air, kicking and screaming, by a tired caretaker. In fact, we were surrounded by tired caretakers.

"NO! Don't believe him!" she screamed. "Don't believe anything he says!"

Buddy, I'm not saying a word.

"It was _you_, wasn't it?!" a woman shouted, squeezing through the crowd of adults. She was a burly woman with wild, bleach-blonde hair, and she wore a pink robe with carpet-like texture. But she had the air of a war general; be not fooled. I wasn't sure who she was, being new to the orphanage, but she didn't seem quite like a caretaker. Perhaps a cook, or a janitor, or... something. I glanced up above her head.

((_Nora Bedingfield_))

"No. Of _course_ it'd be you," she continued contemptuously. "Ya little hell spawn." She flicked A on the forehead, and A snapped at her hand like an agitated turtle.

"You can't prove anything..." A muttered darkly. The caretaker that had been holding her set her down on the ground as other adults surrounded them, securing the girl in place like a rabid animal.

By now, I realized what she had done for me. She took my blame.

"Oh, but we can," the woman answered, whipping out a cell phone from within the recesses of her carpet-robe. "We have the greatest detective in the world on our side." She dialed some numbers and tapped a foot, waiting for a voice on the other end of the line.

I was still sitting on the ground in a sort of daze and only caught little snippets of the phone conversation. "...fire... all night... who _else_ would've... yes... I am quite sure, sir..." She seemed to pause for a while, and I wondered if she had been put on hold, when suddenly, she exclaimed, "What! B-But, but sir! ... I -- yes -- but... no... yes... I understand, sir. Goodbye."

The woman paused after stowing away her cellphone, turning slowly. Like one who had fought a battle and lost, General Nora commanded, reluctantly, "Let her go. Wammy wants us to take the children to a temporary residence while the orphanage..." Here, her eyes momentarily glared down at A, then flickered away. "...gets 'renovated.' Let's go. We'll take everyone in the bus."

The weary-looking soldiers sauntered away, following their commander to round up the other kids and dismiss the cops and firemen. As soon as A was free and the adults had turned their backs, she came over and pulled me up off the ground.

"You okay, BB?" she asked quietly.

"No," I replied casually, with a grin. "I believe I've been rather _rudely_ assaulted."

She gave me an "I am not amused" type of stare and walked around me, moving toward the group of kids pooling around a large, generic-looking bus. Not the school bus type, but rather the black-and-white-commercial-bus type. I hoped they had cushioned seats.

"Hey, so, where do you think they're taking us?" I asked, jogging up beside A.

No answer. Looking over, it seemed that she had taken a sudden interest in examining the orphanage.

"...Are you mad at me?" I inquired. She didn't reply.

I figured that, since she had volunteered to take the blame for me, all was well and forgotten. Yet, here she was giving me the silent treatment again. How exasperating.

I gave a loud whine and said, "Will you stop _ignoring_ me? Everyone's alive, all right? And the building's fine. Why're you still mad at me?"

Still, she refused to answer, so I got upset.

"AAAA!" I shouted, directly into her ear. At this, she spun around, surprised, _acting_ as though she hadn't heard anything I just said. "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU NEED?!" I bellowed, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her rapidly. Her soft grey eyes darted back and forth to check the sanity in my reddish ones. She looked uncertain about my outburst, but I have to give her credit for keeping her composure. A was undaunted, as ever.

"WHAT _YOU_ NEED," I screamed, shaking her between each word, "IS A **BIG HUG**!!"

And then I gave her a big ol' hug.

* * *

**Under Pretext**

**--(A)--**

I punched him.

Then he laughed, and we got in line for the bus.

Well... what would you expect? Screaming in my ear and invading my space... he had it coming to him. BB has no concept of personal boundaries -- or any boundaries at all, for that matter. Totally uninhibited. I suppose you could call it "carefree," but I prefer to say "maniacal."

Anyway, I had been thinking. Examining the orphanage, I again observed that only a small portion of the wall was charred. On the inside, the office may have been burnt soundly, with perhaps smoke and soot lingering in the air and walls. Still, it should only take several hours to clean the place up, and the second story was probably unaffected, for the most part.

Is a "temporary residence" really necessary?

That is, if...

"You know, I didn't know the orphanage had a bus!" BB rambled behind me. "Oooh! Do we go on field trips a lot? 'Cause, like, why else would we need buses, right? ...Buses? Busi? Bi? What is the plural of 'bus'??"

I smiled a little, though of course he couldn't see it, standing behind me and all. "The plural is busae," I offered. Usually, I would just tune out his voice when he began rambling like this, but on occasion, I liked to join in. Because, on occasion, it's nice to get away from my own thoughts.

I heard him gasp, enlightened.

I turned around and held back a snicker -- which choked into a squeal when someone yanked me roughly over the steps and into the bus.

"You--" I looked over my shoulder and square into the face of Nurse Bedingfield, "--will sit at the front. With us." She deposited me unceremoniously into one of the seats near the front of the vehicle, crossing her arms and glaring down at me.

"Hey, A, can I sit with you?" piped BB from behind the large woman.

"Get in the back!" Bedingfield snapped. B's head momentarily turned to her, blinked, lost interest, and ignored her. He stood waiting for my answer until the nurse reached over and spanked him, simultaneously startling him out of his daze and pushing him toward the back of the bus, where the other kids sat stonily.

I scowled. Only _I_ could slap BB around.

But before I knew it, the nurse came stomping back in my direction and pushed a pile of papers into my arms. "Complete those," she said airily. Then, in a hushed voice, she muttered, "_L_ holds you in high regards, apparently. Your punishment will await you at our destination. However, it is _you_ who will decide the outcome of this trip." With that, she dropped a pencil onto my lap and turned away, now barking orders at the bus driver. I looked down at the papers wryly.

We're not really going to a "temporary residence," are we?

I could only wonder about L's true intentions.

* * *

**Social Butterfly**

**--(B)--**

Rubbing my back end scornfully, I marched down the bus aisle and plonked onto some seat near the back. General Carpet-Robe may have won the battle, but I assure you, the war is far from over. I brooded on this for about five minutes, in which time the bus had started up and begun to vibrate down the road.

Ah, I'm tired of sulking.

Returning to reality, I realized that I had managed to claim a whole row of three seats to myself. I praised myself upon this subconscious accomplishment, until I knelt on my seat and looked around at the rest of the bus and realized that every other kid had a row of two or three seats to themselves as well. No two children sat together. We were each isolated on our own cushioned islets, divided by the span of several chairs and the silent atmosphere of the bus. There were eleven of us, excluding A, who sat alone at the front.

I sighed and lowered myself back into my seat. Bored, I began toying with a small lever at the bottom-right of my chair.

Suddenly, the chair lurched backwards -- my head hitting the back of the seat most unpleasantly -- and invaded the row of three seats directly behind me. I blinked and shifted my gaze slightly to the right, where an older blonde girl was staring down at me. Or perhaps... "glowering" would be a more appropriate term.

"Hi!" I said, grinning and remaining flat on my back against the seat.

"Do you _mind_?"

"I'm B. Who're you?" I continued. (Actually, with a glimpse at the space above her head, I already knew her name. But I remembered A's warning.)

(**!**) "W. Now, would you _kindly_--"

"Hey, I thought we went in alphabetical order?" I said, rolling over and sitting up. I was referring to our names, of course. Though I think I may have touched upon a sensitive subject... because the next thing I knew, her foot shot out and kicked the lever, making my seat lurch forward into the proper position -- and propelling my face into the seat directly in front of me.

"Hey!" a boy shouted. I heard the seat before me shift slightly, and I assumed the person was now kneeling on their chair, looking over at me. Just an assumption. My face was still connected to the back of his seat, you see, and my vision was blocked.

I felt a sharp tap on the top of my head and tilted my face upward. A boy with a mop of black hair and dark eyes frowned down at me. Oh, but I smiled -- out of politeness, and because I thought he was cute.

"Uh... what were you doing...?" he asked somewhat uneasily.

"Nothin'," I said lightly. "Hey, I'm B, by the way!"

At this, his demeanor darkened, dimming my smile as well. Names really _were_ a touchy subject, weren't they?

"So... _you're_ B," he said carefully. The disdain in his voice was subtle, as though being suppressed. "Well. Now _I'm_ C. (**!**) Thanks a lot," he growled, descending into his own seat without further comment. I frowned and sat back, wondering where I'd gone wrong. (Well, other than slamming into his chair from behind...) However, my thoughts were completely blown aside when, all of a sudden, I had the most unnerving realization.

Of these orphans, _A_ was the _friendly_ one.

**--(A)--**

Ten minutes later, I had finished with the papers and placed the pencil on the stack with a small "tap."

Immediately, Nurse Bedingfield jumped up from the seat in front of me and spun around, grabbing my work. Scanning it briefly, she handed them over to a caretaker and then marched down the aisle of the bus, toward the back.

**--(B)--**

I was still musing over my realization when I saw the big lady in the pink robe start charging down the aisle. I ducked down in my seat (thinking she was coming back for another spanking), but she stopped mid-aisle and started yelling. Er... explaining. But it all sounds like yelling, when she says it.

"We will be going on a seventy-mile drive to one of Mr. Wammy's cottages in the countryside. However, that cottage cannot house us all. After we arrive, some of you will stay, and some of you will come with me to a different residence." She paused and turned around, taking a packet of papers from one of the caretakers. Holding it up, she said, "Now, because it is early in the morning and I have no patience for any tomfoolery--"

"Tomfoolery," you say? _What_ tomfoolery? The kids on this bus are perfectly silent and well-behaved. Like the stuck-ups they are.

"--I want this bus as quiet as possible. Mrs. Butterworth and I will pass out packets of puzzles and quizzes for your amusement. I don't want to hear so much as a _peep_ for the next hour." They proceeded to pass out the packets (more like stacks) and pencils. When the women retreated to their seats at the front, I looked around and watched as every child immediately attacked their stacks of papers. Their facial expressions were so focused, and their pencil-scraping so furious, it was almost comical.

'_Pfft_._ Please_.'

I gripped my pencil and turned to the first page.

'_They're just puzzles_.'

**--(A)--**

Of course I knew that the puzzles were merely a pretext; we were being evaluated.

Yet, what a strange time to evaluate us. Why all of a sudden, at six a.m. in the morning, on a bus going who-knows-where? Especially after an unexpected fire. Where did they even get all of these papers on such short notice? More importantly, what were they evaluating us _for_?

(_However, it is you who will decide the outcome of this trip._)

...So that's it.

Our scores will likely determine our destinations. Some kids will stay at the first stop; some kids will continue on to the second stop. But... why separate us?

L. What are you thinking?

* * *

**Destination One  
**

**--(A)--**

"We've arrived," the nurse announced. "Give your papers to me as you leave the bus. Mr. Cobalt, the tenant in charge of the cottage, will guide you all to the dining room for breakfast."

The bus began to slow, deviating from the lonely country road and into the driveway of... possibly the biggest "cottage" I've ever seen in my life. That thing was a mini-mansion. (Not enough room for everyone? Lies.)

The kids began filing down the aisle, all looking absurdly stressed. Some mentioned that they hadn't finished their stack of papers, and the caretakers reassured them that it was fine. That was probably another lie. Anyway, I waited until I saw BB come down the aisle, looking completely undisturbed and handing off his papers without hesitation. Seeing me, he grinned and pulled me along behind him, down the stairs, and out of the bus.

"Most boring field trip ever," he complained loudly, holding on to my hand and swinging his arm. "The puzzles were too easy. I finished in like five minutes."

"But you finished everything, right?"

"Well, I skipped the really easy ones."

I stopped, pulling him to an abrupt halt.

"How... how many 'really easy ones' were there...?"

He blinked at me curiously and replied, "Well, I don't know. Like half the packet."

"B!!" I shouted, alarmed. "Why'd you _do_ that??"

"What? Does it matter?" he asked innocently.

I let out a noise of frustration and pulled him down the path forcefully.

**-x-**

A kindly old gentleman greeted us at the door to the cottage. He was dressed in formal attire, reminiscent of a butler or servant. In any case, he welcomed us all into the place and led us down some hallways to a room that I presumed was the dining hall.

"For breakfast today, the cooks have whipped up a quick batch of pancakes. I do hope that you all enjoy your meals," he said with a congenial smile. "Ah, wait just one moment. Is there, by any chance, a Miss A among you?"

Eleven pairs of eyes turned to me.

"Well, Mr. Wammy requested that I prepare a special room for you, dear, so if you will just follow me..." He turned and walked down another corridor.

"I'll come find you after breakfast," B said, patting me on the back. His head turned upwards in thought, before following the other children to the dining room. "I wonder if they have any..."

I looked after him wistfully and then started in the direction of the old man. I was immediately suspicious.

"Come along now, little one. Wouldn't want you getting lost in here," the gentleman rambled. We walked side-by-side for a time. Meanwhile, I quietly observed the area all around me. I wanted to trust the old man, I really did. But when he said "special room," my mind immediately jumped to either "rape" or "sudden explosive death." Oblivious to my paranoia, the old man continued rambling on with attempts at conversation, which I generally paid no attention to.

"...Lovely morning today..."

"...a nice view from the window in your room..."

"...Your grandfather and I are long-time acquaintances."

Stop right there.

My head shot to the side. "Mr. Wammy?" I asked, keeping my tone as level as possible. "How did you know... we were related?"

The man chuckled pleasantly. "Why, he told me, of course. Though, he'd never before mentioned that he had grandchildren. I was quite surprised when he called so suddenly to inform me that his granddaughter and some of her school friends would be coming over for a visit."

The adults of Wammy's are compulsory liars. I need to remember that.

"Oh, right," I said coolly. "How silly of me."

"It's quite all right, dear. By the by, what would you like for breakfast? I can send a maid to deliver the meal right to your room."

"I'll just have what the other kids are having. No syrup, please; I don't like sweet things." I paused in consideration. "Actually... could you send me some jam? ...Strawberry flavored, I guess." The man nodded. We continued down the hall until reaching a flight of stairs which, oddly enough, led to only a single room. After climbing the steps, the gentleman handed me a key and I thanked him, watching as he retreated back down the stairs. Opening the door, I --

"..."

_Ugh_.

"L," I deadpanned.

"A," was the impassive reply.

* * *

**Revelations  
**

**--x--**

"So," she said with a sigh, closing the door behind her. "What is this evaluation about, L?"

The boy, crouching on the bed opposite the door, spoke awkwardly around the lollipop in his mouth. "Oh. You noticed."

"You make it obvious," A muttered, sitting down on a chair beside the bed and kicking her legs idly. "The thing I can't figure out is... why sort us by score? What will happen to the children that stay and the children that leave?"

"I would tell you," he muttered darkly, pausing for dramatic effect, "but then I would have to kill you."

"Try it, and see what happens," she threatened.

L gave her an amused stare.

"Well," he began again in a marginally lighter tone. "I suppose I must tell you, for it is you who will determine what happens to the other children." He popped the candy out of his mouth with a wet smack, holding it momentarily by the thumb and forefinger, in order to speak with more ease. "You should know that I already anticipate your score to be the highest. Whatever that score is, it will be the standard for judging the other tests. Say that your score was 100. Any child that can score a 40 or more will 'pass' the test and remain in this cottage."

"Basically, anyone who achieves at least forty percent of my score will pass?"

"Correct."

"But... why? Why compare their scores to mine?"

"Because I have faith in your ability to maintain the high standards of Wammy's House, and because I am now putting into effect my plans to raise a successor."

A's eyes widened by a miniscule fraction. "By 'maintain the high standards,' you can't possibly mean..."

"Correct again," L stated matter-of-factly. "Anyone who does not pass will no longer reside within the orphanage."

"L! How--"

"Please allow me to finish," he continued, wagging the lollipop near her face. "Now, in case I should die, only one child will succeed me. There can be only one L. However, there is also the possibility that my intended successor -- that is, _you_ -- will die or be rendered useless before my time. Therefore, I must also have 'backups' who are high enough in quality to replace the first successor. There need only be several, perhaps a few, spares. Thus, the other children are not necessary or of a high enough potential, and will be transferred to other suitable orphanages."

A said nothing, looking down at her lap.

"Oh, and thank you for lighting that fire. It gave us a plausible pretense under which to mobilize this plan."

**--(A)--**

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to reach over and smack him. Preferably with his own, infernal lollipop.

**--x--**

"Now," he said, bringing A's attention back to the boy, "we will not be residing here for long. The reason I have chosen now to initiate my plan is that I have a case where I will need the aid of my most able successors. I suppose you could consider this 'field training.'"

"What do you mean?" A spat, exasperated with all the convoluted plots.

"I have already reviewed the evaluations. Tomorrow, I will dispatch these successors to different locations across the globe, housing them with certain families under the guise of foreign exchange students. They will each have a specific mission to accomplish. I will give you further details at another time, when the others are informed of this plan as well." L slurped on his candy thoughtfully. "This will be a true test of your abilities. I have high expectations of you all."

A sighed. "And by 'you all,' you mean..."

"You."

* * *

(**!**) **Hidden DN character alert!**  
(Oh-ho. No one ever said that they _weren't_ from Wammy's... so it's free game! xD Not every kid is necessarily a genius, by the way. They are simply gifted, or "extraordinary," in some way or another. Can you figure out who they are? Some will be obvious. Some not. :D)

* * *

**From the Author:** Now the pressure of living up to L will begin, along with our first actual story arc. Details will be revealed in the next chapter, but right now, I'll have to spoil some of the surprise: only five children (including A) will remain at Wammy's. However, I have yet to decide _where_ to send these darlings and to what _families_. In other words, this is our chance to invade the homes of other DN characters!

With that said... **To what five families and locations should we send these brats?**


	6. Running in All Directions

**Note:** I totally thought I'd have more time to update this summer.

Really, I did -- but I'm sorry. My time has been divided between volunteering, working, tennis practice, summer homework, and the demands of my friends to "go out" and "do" things. I haven't had much alone time, so I beg your forgiveness.

Anyway. Thank you to all who gave suggestions! Everyone seemed to guess "W" correctly, and one special person guessed "C." You'll know who you are soon enough. C:

* * *

**"Love Lies Bleeding"****  
**Running in All Directions

**--x--**

We'll do it all,  
Everything,  
On our own.

We don't need  
Anything  
Or anyone.

- _Chasing Cars_, Snow Patrol

**--x--**

"I wonder if they have any..."

I bade A goodbye and entered the dining room, last of the group. Scanning the area, I found that there were four, small round tables covered by white cloths and set for about three kids each. Of course, there were eleven of us, so one of those tables would seat only two.

That was when I saw the boy from before, C, sit down. And for _some reason_, I felt suddenly inspired to run to the table in that particular direction.

Inviting myself into the chair beside C, I sat down and smiled, waiting for my presence to be acknowledged. He was presently staring at his place setting. Just staring. ...Staring. Still staring. I put my elbows on the table and rested my head on my hands, staring at him as he stared, waiting.

I'd hate to think that a plate with a napkin is more interesting than I am.

Taking the initiative, I nudged him a little with my elbow. He turned away, but I knew he knew I was here. Playfully, I blew a gust of air at the back of his head, sending his slightly curled, dark locks fanning out in all directions. Oh, and I expected him to whip around and beat me across the face (though perhaps that's something only A would do) because I knew I was being annoying, and I knew he knew I knew. Heehee.

Oh, but he didn't.

He stood, picked up his chair, and moved to the next table over. He didn't even spare a glance.

...Despondent, I fell face-down on the plate in front of me and covered my head with the napkin.

* * *

**The Chosen Ones**

**--(L)--**

"These," L dumped a mound of folders on the bed, "are the profiles of those who have 'passed'."

A nodded, glancing briefly at the five, identical manila folders. "So, you said we're going to... track down some kind of occult society. But, what are we supposed to do?"

"Investigate, of course."

"Well, I know--"

"Investigate."

"...It's not that simple, though."

"No. It's not."

L turned his attention to the folders, thus ending the discussion. A's question was left dangling in the air, unanswered, but she found it pointless to continue probing. Meanwhile, L fingered one of the folders (A could only wonder how he'd know exactly whose profile it contained) and held it up. "Alternate / Age 7 / Rank 1. A will be L's eyes and ears during the investigation, with direct contact to Watari. She must relay all information to her superiors through a secure line. A is the only child with exclusive knowledge of L's identity; at times, she may pose as L."

Working closely with L: what an honor. However...

"It sounds like you're making _me_ do _your_ work," A remarked bluntly.

L popped a sugar cube in his mouth and slurped on it wordlessly.

**--x--**

"Running from the new kid, Coil?" (1)

"Hello to you, too, _Wedy_."

C dragged the chair to a halt and sat down unhappily.

"What's with you, Sunshine?" the blonde inquired.

C mumbled something below his breath, which Wedy couldn't grasp. Though, knowing Coil, it was probably something along the lines of: "I'll never catch up to L," or "I failed at -- _insert effort here_ -- yet again." And Wedy could very well guess the cause of this depression. Recently, she'd overheard that he was demoted a letter, a vital rank, and the news of this probably sent him spiraling (coiling?) into depression. Just like last time. For you see, after L, Coil was the brightest child that Wammy's had to offer... before A came along, that is.

Wedy snorted. "Get over yourself."

**--(L)--**

"Next," L continued, picking another folder haphazardly from the pile. "Wednesday / Age 15 / Rank 5. W will reside with the Carters (2) in Kenya. Wednesday is among the oldest of the children, requiring less supervision, and has notable skill in hacking computerized systems."

A looked upward in thought. "She's stealthy, too."

"Why do you say that?"

A paused, then shrugged. "She stole my English report once... It was a pretty impressive feat. I was actually right there in my room when she stole it, and I never even noticed her come in."

"Is that so?" L replied, the corners of his mouth curling up into an enigmatic smile. "How did you discover the culprit?"

"Well, I mean, it could be just a _blind conjecture_, but afterwards I found 'Today is Wednesday' written on my desk in lip gloss."

**--x--**

Generous plates of pancakes were distributed to the crowd of children. Wedy was absentmindedly poking at her breakfast, trying to calculate the difference in calories between adding and not adding syrup (like all teenage girls do), when Mr. Cobalt entered the room.

"Miss Wednesday? Is there a Miss Wednesday in the room?"

Someone pointed a fork in Wedy's direction, and the old gentleman ambled over to her table. "Excuse my interruption, but your presence is requested. If you will just follow me..." he said, trailing off and heading to the exit.

C snorted. "What'd you do this time?"

Wedy glared at him and slammed her fork on the table. "Shut up, _Number Three_."

Coil seemed to cry a little, on the inside.

The blonde dropped her utensils and slid her plate away, backing out of her chair. Unfortunately, the child from the next table, seated just behind W, also chose that moment to back out of her chair. And they collided.

"Ow!"

Wedy turned and spat, "Watch where you're going, H!"

**--(L)--**

"Halifax / Age 10 / Rank 3. H will reside with the Lidner family in Nova Scotia. Incidentally, Nova Scotia is her country of origin, so she will have the advantage of familiarity with the location." L smirked behind his cup of tea. "Is there anything you would like to add?"

But A decided to ignore the mocking tone.

"Halifax..." she repeated thoughtfully. "We've never talked, so I don't know much about her... but she did give me back my English report that one time."

**--x--**

Hal stuck her tongue out at her nemesis (a.k.a. roommate). "Watch where _you're_ throwing your _body weight_," she replied calmly.

Wedy was highly affronted.

If this crowd of children had been any crowd of children other than those proper Wammy minions, there would have been a chorus of "ooooh's" in the background. But alas, that is not the case, and Wednesday was not instigated further. She left the room with a simple scoff and a swish of the hair.

An older boy sitting beside Hal rolled his eyes at the behavior of the two blondes. Sighing, he said, "Come on, H. We're being called down, too."

**--(L)--**

(3) "Middow / Age 17 / Rank 4. M will join the Matsuda family in Japan. Again, he has been assigned his country of origin, so he will be familiar with the area. M is also the oldest of the children, and will be responsible for the more difficult aspects of the investigation."

"Middow," A began. "In class, he claimed that his deceased family was once a powerful group of businesspeople. If that's true, it's possible that M has retained some of his parents' connections. I wonder if that'll be useful to the case?"

**--x--**

Middow adjusted his glasses and headed for the door with Hal behind him. While passing between the round tables, he discovered a dejected-looking boy sitting alone with his head down on the table, breakfast ignored, and a napkin randomly covering his syrup-colored hair.

M hesitated, and then tapped the boy's head.

"Hey, kid."

BB looked up and around.

"You have syrup in your hair," M informed.

B let out a loud, defeated whine. He glanced behind him at C, that cold-hearted crush, wondering if he'd noticed. And C was, indeed, looking at B's head.

**--(L)--**

"Now, we also have," L began, picking up another folder, "Coil / Age 12 / Rank 2. C will join the Jeevas family in Haiti. (4)" L placed the folder back down on the bed. "Although I have not known C personally, we were generally rivals during my time at the orphanage. He does not know my face, but I am eighty-four percent certain that he remembers every single test score I had ever achieved."

"...Yeah, that sounds like Coil," A affirmed with a slow nod. "I don't know much about him, though. He tends to avoid me."

"That, too, sounds like Coil."

* * *

**Purging the Impurities**

**--x--**

An elderly gentleman -- not Mr. Cobalt, but another one, whom the children vaguely recognized but could not quite recall -- entered the dining room and quietly requested that C join him out in the hall. That was fifteen minutes ago.

Now, with the population in the dining area cut in half, the room was considerably less crowded and the rest of the children enjoyed their pancakes uneventfully. They were not at all anxious when Nurse Bedingfield walked into the room and demanded that everyone hurry up with their eating. (Bedingfield was a demanding person, you see, and this was not out of the ordinary.) Soon afterwards, the caretakers rounded up the six or so children and led them outside, back to the bus, ready to take that second, hour-long trip.

And that was their unsung departure from the world of Wammy's.

* * *

**Insight and Discovery**

**--x--**

"So, in terms of relaying information, the other kids will contact me, and I will contact Watari, who will contact you."

"Correct. Be aware that this communication relay may possibly cause a circulation of misinformation, so you must be clear and meticulous about details. However, such measures must be taken, since a direct link to Watari or myself is too risky."

A was quiet, pondering.

"You said before... that I may have to pretend to be you. Is this what you meant? That the other kids will report to me, thinking that I'm L, in order to throw off any possible interceptors of communication?"

"Correct again."

"So, to some extent, I'll be in the line of danger, won't I?"

"Yes. Although, it is highly unlikely that our lines will be infiltrated. You are relatively safe."

"Relatively," she repeated slowly, turning her gaze downward. "Well, relatively speaking, I'm safer than the other kids -- but not as safe as you." She paused for a moment before continuing, "In the end, doesn't this mean that my life has priority over theirs, and your life has priority over mine?"

L popped another sugar cube into his mouth, his expression becoming solemn. "Although the concept of lives having priority over one another seems unfavorable, this is the truth," he began firmly. "Should you ever succeed me, A, you must come to terms with this. As L, you would have the influence to move international militaries and sway the opinions of powerful nations. Your life is quite valuable -- not to be taken lightly, and not to be thrown away. At times, yours will have priority over others'. This is the truth."

And A couldn't help but wonder if it was.

**-x-**

"Now," L said, several minutes later, "please bring me the wastebasket from the corner and move your chair at least three feet away."

A gave him a quizzical, one-eyed squint. However, disregarding the request as simply another annoying trait of the _great_ L, she obliged. Picking up the trash can, A deposited it near the side of the bed and then moved her chair to the far wall, several feet more than just three. She figured that he probably just had to cough up a sugar ball (don't cats have hairballs?), or some such nonsense, and did not want to be caught in the line of fire.

Of course, that's a ridiculous notion.

Instead, L dumped all of the profile folders into the can and pulled out a matchbox, striking a fire using only the thumbs and forefingers of each hand (impressive), and dropped the incendiary into the wastebasket. The pile combusted in a flare of heat, which A could feel quite uncomfortably, from more than three feet away.

"Wh... what're you _doing_?"

"Deleting all records of your existences. For safety."

Perhaps A would have retorted something snarky, or rolled her eyes, or inquired as to why L did not simply use a paper shredder like the average human being. However, there was something in that fire -- that combustion of heat waves and blazing light -- which held her gaze, unwavering. Just for a moment, for a _moment_, there was this airy feeling of remembering or knowing something that she had never remembered and never known in the first place. Just for a moment, she knew.

And then, another thought came barreling through that secret, fluid knowledge which seeped into her mind from some unknown source. It was urgent and unambiguous, this new and alarming thought.

"Wait."

A counted off on her fingers. "A, C, H, M, and W..."

She looked at L with pleading eyes.

"That's... it?"

* * *

(1) Erald _Coil_, supposedly third of the "top three" detectives in the world.

(2) Anthony _Carter_, a.k.a. Rester (age 22)

(3) "Middow" - (English-ization of) Shingo _Mido_; one of the men from the Yotsuba Company. (--Forgotten minor character alert!--)  
...In case you don't remember, he was that nerdy-lookin' guy with the glasses and brown/blonde hair that helped out Namikawa. :) What can I say? I needed a representative from the Yotsuba group. :D

(4) When someone asked for France in a review, I thought, "France, eh? But, L will already have Europe covered... so let's go somewhere French in the _Carribean_."

* * *

**From the Author:** HAH hahaha... Yes, I actually went ahead and calculated everyone's ages. According to "How to Read 13," L was born in 1979, and so (for the purposes of this story) B and A were born in 1982/1983. Thus, the current year is 1990, and from there I calculated everyone else's ages. :'D

What a pain. -.-

Anyways, this is a light intro to our new cast of Wammy's, who will be joining their respective families shortly. (A's family is yet to be revealed.) Thanks again to those who sent suggestions -- and congratulations, fire spirit, for figuring out the mystery that is "C.":)

...Hey, aren't we missing somebody?


End file.
